Never Too Late
by Scarlett Rogue
Summary: Blaine is in trouble, and he has no one to go to- after all, who would believe that Dalton's Dean sexually abused a student? So he turns to a peer counseling website to help him get through each day. And that's when he meets his angel.
1. It's not too late, it's never too late

**Summary: Blaine is in trouble, and he has no one to go to- after all, who would believe that Dalton's Dean sexually abused a student? So he turns to a peer counseling website to help him get through each day. And that's when he met his angel.**

**Rated: T**

Author's Note: I know this is a very touchy subject for many people. In many ways this is therapeutic for me because I've been through something like this before, but I wanted to warn everyone that at times this may be hard to read. Thank you for reading.  


Blaine could still remember it like it had happened yesterday. People were always telling him that remembering an experience would make it heal faster, but for Blaine it only suffocated him further. He couldn't breathe when he remembered, he couldn't even remember how it felt to have oxygen fill his lungs. But everything else was there.

It started in the beginning of the school year. Blaine had just been dropped off by his dad when Wes broke the news to him. Dean Murray was offered a higher position and took it without a second thought. Blaine remembered how uncomfortable that had made him, because Dean Murray had been at Dalton since he first started attending and had helped him get through a lot those first months. In Blaine's mind, he made Dalton what it was. Now some new Dean was taking over.

Blaine remembered being introduced to the new Dean by Wes, who, in his attempt to keep the Warbler's in the schools favor, sought to familiarize the Dean with the "rock stars" of the school. Dean Marshall. Blaine shook his hand firmly and gave him one of his most charming smiles, knowing that this was what Wes wanted. He still didn't know the guy and still felt uncomfortable without Dean Murray around, but he figured that if this guy got the job than he must be a pretty okay guy.

The new Dean seemed to respect Blaine a lot, and Blaine found out later that this was due to the fact that he knew his father. Senator Anderson and he had gone to school together, it seemed, and they had even roomed together during college. Now that Blaine thought back on it, he could vaguely remember his father talking about how he had to talk politics with such a man. Blaine figured that if this man knew and was friends with his father than he must be a good guy.

And that's how he got himself in trouble.

Blaine remembered the day that he was called down to the Dean's office under the pretext that something was going on with his father that he needed to know. He remembered walking quickly, almost running, to the office, afraid that his father had gotten hurt. He remembered the hundreds of scenarios that flooded his mind in the two minutes it took him to go from Italian to the office and be seated in the black leather couches. He remembered waiting impatiently, biting down on his knuckles with worry.

Blaine lifted his hand and inspected his much-abused knuckles. Biting was only the beginning. It took the edge off the memory, took the pain away and redirected it. It wasn't long before biting wasn't enough.

But at the time it was a small bite, not breaking the skin at all, but rather a wordless prayer to the Lord to let his father be safe. He remembered how much he used to pray back then. And he felt more calm after praying, like maybe there was a God who would protect his father. He would protect his mother, and his little brother and sister. But Blaine never realized that he had been left out of the equation.

Blaine remembered the relief that washed over him as Dean Marshall told him immediately that his father was safe. Blaine smiled, relaxed, and asked him what he could do for him. The dean was sitting in the chair right next to him instead of across the desk. Most students would find this strange, but Blaine was used to it. His old Dean did the same thing.

Blaine remembered the smile that set his pulse into overdrive and set a warning bell off in his head. The same warning bell, in fact, that had gone off the second he saw the man. But Blaine kept reminding himself that this was not only the Dean of the school, but also a close friend of his fathers, and his father was a good man. There was nothing to worry about.

So he squashed the impulse to run and remained seated, waiting to see what Marshall wanted. If only he had listened to that little impulse. If only he had known the true nature of humanity. If only he had not tried to believe the best in everyone else. Perhaps he wouldn't be biting his knuckle now just thinking about it.

Blaine remembered when Marshall slid his hand across the young students slap. He remembered kindly pushing his hand off while at the same time trying not to offend him. He remembered when Marshall suddenly jumped up from his chair and forced himself onto his innocent, confident student.

And he remembered the exact moment when the innocence was killed, the confidence torn to pieces and thrown into an ocean of oblivion. He remembered the exact moment he placed his knuckle into his mouth and bit down so hard that the gentle skin of his hand broke and the taste of blood filled his mouth, mingling with the taste of salty tears. And every moment after that, remembering was something he tried not to do. Because sooner or later, biting would not be enough.

O.o.O

Blaine went through his daily routine like a droid. It didn't take long for Wes and David to notice his absent-minded persona, or to see how little he actually ate lately. It didn't take them long to realize that his behavior had nothing to do with Warblers or classwork or home. They tried to get the truth out of him but Blaine's lips were sealed.

Blaine knew that Wes wouldn't believe him. He _liked _Dean Marshall, ten times more than Murray. He knew that Blaine favored the other and would simply assume that Blaine made it up to turn him against his up-and-coming idol. At first, Blaine wanted to hit Wes so hard for not realizing what an awful demon this man was, but he stopped caring after a while. He went through his day, did his homework, went to Warblers practice. But when he was alone he locked his bedroom door, curled up under ten pounds of thick blankets, and didn't move for hours. Never sleeping, just laying, wondering when his life became a nightmare.

Sometimes he cried. He would cry for hours, feeling like something so important had been taken from him, all because he didn't listen to his instincts. In many ways, he felt like he was to blame. It was his stupidity that led to a grown man forcing himself onto him, and therefore his cross to bare.

Sometimes he would just lay there and revel in the feeling of those ten pounds of blankets crushing down on him. Hell, he was already getting used to not being able to breathe. It became a comfort for him, one that he didn't want to go away, because if he could breathe properly than he could think properly, and he was afraid to think.

But it was all becoming too much. The kids at school respected their new Dean and liked when he would stop in to Warblers practice. The first time he came Blaine fainted. He woke up in the hospital wing with Wes and David fluttering above his head, and _that man _sitting in a chair by his bed. He had his hand resting on the bed, dangerously close to Blaine's thigh, and Blaine didn't have to think. He ran for it. Because the last time he denied his instincts he ended up hating himself. He wasn't going to make the same mistake.

Blaine bolted from the room as fast as he could, but he wasn't being fast enough. He could hear Wes and David running after him, yelling that he would only work himself up more. But they didn't know what fast was. Fast was how Blaine jumped over the railing of the stairs, darted through a back hallway, and made it to his room in less than thirty seconds. Fast was how Blaine didn't even need to bite down on his knuckle to know that this time biting wasn't going to help. Fast was how Blaine made the decision to abuse another part of his body because he already felt too abused to ever heal.

Fast was how Blaine decided that he needed someone to talk to, someone to tell everything to. Someone who would believe him no matter what, because they didn't know his school, or his Dean, or the pathetic way the world views people in high positions. Like they're somehow _incapable _of hurting another human being.

It took only minutes for Blaine to find the site he was looking for. A site for teens who have been abused. He hands shook as he wrote his anonymous message, crying as he typed the pleading words, the words that he hoped would save him from everyone. From the monster he couldn't escape, from the ignorance of people he called his friends, and even from himself.

He submitted his message and lay back on his bed, examining the small bandage on his wrist. It was a small cut, but it scared him. He didn't want to cause himself more pain than he was already in. And a part of him, a very small part, wondered if he shouldn't just end it.

Then something happened, something that he will always remember, not with happiness, but something close. With hope.

A beep of his laptop alerted him that he had just received a message. Thinking it too good to be true, he went to check. Sure enough, only two minutes after posting, someone had sent him a message.

_Hi, I'm Kurt._

I read your message. To be honest, I've never been sexually abused before. More like always coming home donning a new bruise. But...you sound like you just want someone to talk to. I wouldn't mind being that person. A person should never have to go through something like this alone. Remember: it's never too late.

Blaine sat back against his headboard and stared at the message in front of him, feeling tears cascade down his cheeks. Sure, he didn't know what Blaine was going through, but he was ready to listen. It hurt Blaine to remember, but he had to make a decision: he could trust a total stranger, or let this destroy him slowly but surely.

Mustering up all the courage that he had saved up in the entire span of his life, Blaine focused it all into remembering exactly what happened, and he sent all his bad memories and weak moments off to rest in the hands of a stranger. And for the first time in months he prayed. He prayed that he had finally found someone who would care.

**My usual sentiment at the end of a chapter is "how did you like it?" but I'm not sure many would like this. Even going over it myself, I felt the weight of what I had just created. I promise if you stick with it it does get better! Again, thank you for reading.**

**Please review, it will make typing this up really worth it.  
**


	2. Even if I say it'll be alright

**First off, let me thank everyone who read and reviewed the first chapter of this fic, as well as all of you who may not have reviewed, but nonetheless enjoyed what I wrote. I means a lot to me to have so many encouraging people helping me get through this. Apologies for not posting sooner. Due to midterms (as well as finals, blah) i can only post on weekends, butt hank you for being patient. And now, for the next chapter! **

"Blaine, we need to talk." Wes set his lunch down across from his solemn friend.

"Can it wait?" Blaine was impatiently awaiting a text from Kurt and didn't want to explain his unusual new friendship to "The Next Weasley Twins."

"No, it can't." David joined in the conversation. "Not after what you pulled Friday night. I mean, what was with you?"

"I don't know." Blaine shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tried to ignore their skeptical stares.

"Blaine," Wes placed his hand gently over his friends. Blaine's instinct at that point was to snatch his hand away as quick as possible. He tried to cover up the action by reaching for his cell phone, pretending he had gotten a text. He hadn't, of course. He gritted his teeth and looked back towards his friend, surprised to see Wes looking at him in shock.

"What?"

"What the hell was that? What, now you don't even want to touch me!"

"Wes, it isn't-"

"No, fuck this, Anderson! You know, I'm trying really hard to be supportive of your pathetic little man-period, and I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but seriously, I don't deserve to be treated like this. I don't care if you woke up and your hair won't stay _just _the way you want it, or if someone stepped on your new designer shoes, or if you're just pissed off because the whole world isn't bowing down to you, but _this _is going too far!" Wes practically shouted in his face, and for a few seconds following his little speech the table sat quiet.

Then, keeping a firm grasp on his sanity, Blaine started to speak in a whisper.

"What the hell do you think is wrong with me, hm?" He said each word painfully slow.

"I think that ever since Dean Murray left you haven't been anyone's little golden boy, and you miss the attention." Wes folded his arms across his chest and leaned back as if he expected to get a pat on the back.

David was always the smarter of the dynamic duo, so it was no surprise that he stayed quiet, fully aware of the danger of jumping into this conversation. He saw how hard Blaine was struggling to keep his composure, how his eyes hardened as Wes' explanation. He knew intuitively that this situation was so much deeper than Wes was making it seem, but the look in Blaine's eyes was scary. He was, in all honesty, afraid to discuss the subject any further.

Blaine leaned toward Wes and said, in a quiet, hard voice, "No, Wes, _this _is going too far."

"Oh yeah? Call me when you stop fancying yourself better than the rest of the world," Wes spit back at his friend. Well, ex-friend. Blaine jumped up from the table and walked away with a speed that would make every sparkly vampire in the world jealous.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Blaine heard David ask bitterly from behind him. He marched out of the dining hall, wanting only the comfort of his room at this point. Not his Dalton room, either. Too many nights have been spent on the brink of insanity for him to find comfort in such a place.

"Blaine, wait!" David was rushing quickly to his friend's side. When Blaine wouldn't stop walking he reached his hand out to catch his elbow, but quickly withdrew it, remembering the way Blaine's hand jerked almost instinctively away from Wes' when he had touched it.

"What do you want, David?" His bitterness towards Wes was poorly concealed, but he tried to remind himself that, contrary to popular belief, Wes and David were two completely different people.

"To tell you that if you ever need a friend I'll always be here for you." This stopped Blaine in his tracks and he turned to look at David, mystified.

"Dude, I know that you're going through something...serious. I may not know what it is, but that doesn't mean I'm just gonna abandon you. When you're ready to tell me, you will."

And this was why David was Blaine's first true friend at Dalton. He had always been there for Blaine when they first met, even before Blaine was willing to tell him why he ran from his hometown. That was the major difference between Wes and David. By the time Blaine and Wes became friends Blaine was comfortable enough with himself to tell Wes everything, and that's what Wes was used to. David, on the other hand, knew that serious issues took time for Blaine to process and accept, and this situation was no exception.

"Thank you, David." For the first time in weeks Blaine smiled. It was small, and short-lived, but it was a smile nonetheless. David reached out tentatively and gently squeezed Blaine's hand in his own before issuing a 'see ya later' and heading to his first block class. Blaine had other plans.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and, checking the caller id, saw that it was from Kurt.

"Finally," he whispered. Blaine made his way up the main stairs of the school, heading for the room where the Warblers usually held practice. It wouldn't be nearly as comfortable now that Wes was being a royal ass, but it was better than his room. He threw some cushions together in a pile in the corner hidden behind couches and cuddled into the pillows, perfectly hidden to anyone who happened to wander in.

Blaine wasn't surprised that it had taken so long for Kurt to respond to his last text. He had asked the boy a very person question, one that he was almost positive he would not receive an answer to, but it appeared that Kurt was willing to answer it.

After spewing his guts to Kurt two days ago, Blaine was dead-set on getting the attention off himself for a while. It became too much to think about his tragic life story, so he had asked Kurt about his situation. Surely if Kurt could comfort him in his time of need than Blaine could return the favor. So Kurt began to tell him about the bullying, and feeling like a complete outcast at his school. Blaine understood it perfectly; it was like he and this boy had almost lived the same life for a short period of time, before Blaine took one path and Kurt took another. Then Kurt told him, in detail, about Dave. He told him about the stupid closet-case kissing him, and how he was more afraid of him after that kiss than he ever was before. When Blaine asked him why, he received a very long silence from the other boy.

_Okay, I know this probably sounds stupid to you, after what you've been through. Or maybe it doesn't, I don't know. I'm just...afraid that one day he'll go too far. I mean, on the one hand he has an intense attraction for me, and on the other he wants to kill me. Violence and romance do not mix well. I'm scared how he'll act if I'm ever alone with him again. I'm afraid a kiss won't be enough for him.  
_

It didn't sound stupid to Blaine at all. He knew all too well what happened when affection and violence mixed.

_Maybe some people would find that stupid, but I'm not one of them._

Blaine slipped his phone into his pocket and lay back on his mountain of pillows. He could feel himself sinking into sleep and didn't have the strength to pull himself out. Everything- schoolwork, Warblers- seemed completely irrelevant lately. It scared him how little he cared about anything, but at the same time, it didn't altogether bother him. Maybe he just wasn't long for this world.

O.o.O

"Honey, could you come here for a minute?" Mrs. Anderson called up the stairs of her huge house, holding a letter in her hand. Her husband dashed down the stairs, still trying to fix his tie in the process.

"What is it, Sweetie? I have a very important meeting in a short bit, and I can't afford to-"

"It's from Blaine's school."

"Well, then," Senator Anderson puffed out his chest in a pompous manner. "What has our boy done this time? Made the Dalton Academy Hall of Fame? I've always said that boy was the best thing that ever happened to that school."

"Afraid not this time." His wife shook her permed hair out and sighed in an overly-theatrical manner.

"'Dear Mr. and Mrs. Anderson,'" she began to read. "'It is a pleasure, as always, to be talking to two such fine people, and truly an honor to be made Dean of such a fine school where I have the privilege of being somewhat of a mentor into life for your talented son. That being said, it pains me to not bring you good news about your boy's education. Rather, I'm forced to bring you the opposite. I know that this goes without saying that Dalton it not at all cheap and I know you would hate to waste your money on nothing at all. So I thought you would like to be made aware of the fact that your son has been skipping classes for the passed week. Not all, mind you, but his patterns are so sporadic that it appears he simply skips whenever he feels like it. Now, skipping is a disciplinary problem, and I _have _tried to speak with Blaine about the matter privately, but he seems to be displaying rude, disrespectful manners toward me, and everyone for that matter. It is not my wishes to remove Blaine from Dalton because, as I have said before, he is unmatched in talent and has much going for him, but I won't stand for his behavior. Please speak with him, if you can. Again, I am truly sorry for not bringing you happier news, but I have full confidence that the matter will be resolved peacefully very soon. Thank you for your time."'

"Blaine, displaying rude behavior? To a _Dean?_ This has to stop."

"Honey, maybe he's having...I don't know, boyfriend troubles or something. Maybe it's a passing phase."

"You're right, it _is _a passing phase. Because it's going to pass _now_."

O.o.O.

Blaine was startled awake by the sound of his cell phone ringing. He looked around, disoriented, and realized that he hadn't even been asleep more than an hour. He pulled his phone out and answered it quickly without checking the id, hoping it was Kurt. Who else would call him during school hours?

"Hello?"

"Hello son, funny you answered your phone during school hours." Blaine knew instantly that he was in trouble. His father's voice was tight and forced.

"Yeah, well, I'm feeling a bit under the weather today. Huge headache, I couldn't be in school."

"Hm, have you, by any chance, been having a chronic headache this entire week?"

"Um...no?"

"Then why have you been skipping?" Oh, so he knew. So that bastard had the nerve to complain about him to his family.

"Dad, I can explai-"

"Explain? Explain why your mother and I are wasting thousands of dollars a year so that you can go to a decent school and not get abused?"

"Dad, stop! This goes so far beyond money-"

"Money is everything, Blaine! Connections are everything! And if you don't start shaping up, I'll take you out of that school so fast you won't even see it coming. Now, I don't want to hear another complaint from Dean Marshall. He's a good friend of mine, and I don't appreciate you disrespecting my friends like-"

"I hate you." The words were out before Blaine could stop himself, spit out violently as if they were the most natural thing in the world.

"I-excuse me?"

"I fucking hate your guts!" Blaine threw his phone across the room, not caring the slightest when it hit the wall and shattered into what looked like eight different pieces. After everything that had already happened, after the way his supposed _best friend _had treated him, now he had to deal with this!

Why was it that he could only find comfort in the words of a stranger?

He would love to go back to his old school, to get away from an abusive man that his own father regarded with more fondness than his own son. The pain he felt was like a physical tearing in his chest, and he gasped for breath. A cloud of darkness was hovering over Blaine's head, trying to suck him under, and it only took Blaine a few seconds to give up trying to breathe. His chest constricted and he felt himself suffocating, but he couldn't find the willpower to open his mouth and take another breath. There seemed no point in living at this point.

Blaine let the darkness cloud his mind completely, taking him away from the pain that he had grown accustomed to in the last few weeks. And for a few short seconds, he smiled, believing that he was dying.

**Hey guys, thanks for reading! Sorry, I know I promised that things would get better. Cross your fingers for the next chapter! Thank you so much for reading, and reviews Would be absolutely amazing! **

**Since music is my soul food, in case you're wondering these are the songs I used for inspiration for this chapter. The first chapter, and the story as a whole, is inspired by Three Days Grace's "Never Too Late"**

**Playlist for Chapter 2:  
**

**Becoming the Bull- Atreyu  
Helena- My Chemical Romance  
The Chronicles of Life and Death- Good Charlotte  
Hero- Skillet**


	3. I hear you say you want to end your life

**First of all, I'd like to thank my dedicated readers. I know to Glee fanfiction, and it's nice to have so much support so earlier on! Secondly, I'd like to apologize for what you're about to read. It's a bit sad, but i promise that the chapter will end on a good note. Really, I mean it. One more thing: I'll probably only post once a week because of midterms and the fact that I have college applications and financial aid stuff to worry about right now. Oh, the joy of being a senior! But you are guaranteed at least one chapter each week. Again, thanks for reading, and enjoy!**

Wes stormed out of his last period class, his Dalton uniform shoes squeaking on the shiny floor as he speed-walked to the Warblers' rehearsal room. On top of having to choreograph a new dance in ten minutes before the other Warblers showed up, Wes had to do it alone. Blaine wasn't in History class.

Wes had gotten used to the other boy skipping classes lately, but after their row during lunch he couldn't, wouldn't forgive Blaine for this. He knew that Blaine was just going to leave him hanging. Wes entered the room and paced the floor impatiently. That is, until he heard a faint choking noise.

"Hello?" He spun around, wondering if maybe he had just heard something from in the hallways. No; there it was again. Someone in the room with him, sounding like they were choking.

"Is somebody there?" Wes looked all around the room but could find no one. The choking got louder and Wes felt like maybe he might be going insane, until he heard a thump and followed the sound. Behind the couch that wasn't quite pushed up against the wall was Blaine...and he was having a seizure.

"SHIT!" Wes jumped behind the couch and cradled his friend's head in his hands to prevent him from unconsciously hitting his head against the hard floor. He pulled out his phone and dialed 911 as fast as possible.

Blaine's body jerked up and his eyes rolled back into his head. Wes knew that he needed to tell the police what was going on, but Blaine wasn't breathing.

"Wes, is that y-"

"Get the fuck over here! Blaine's having a seizure, tell them!" Wes thrust the phone into David's confused hands. He stood for a second looking shell-shocked before comprehension lit up his face.

"What!"

"JUST TELL THEM!"

Wes tilted his friends chin up and, plugging his nose, tried desperately to blow air into Blaine's lungs. Pulling away, he pushed his palms into Blaine's chest. Wes had only ever performed CPR on a dummy, and it had scared him to think that he might actually have to use it someday. But now he was glad that he learned-it meant that he stood a chance of saving his friends life.

His _best _friend.

Blaine suddenly choked and sputtered and tried to pull himself up. Wes pushed him back down.

"Don't! You need your energy...just lay...stay." Blaine grabbed hold of Wes' shirt and pulled him down. Wes heard the harsh sound of Blaine's abused throat trying to form words.

"D-don't..."

"Don't speak, save your energy." Wes was trying so hard to keep his cool, but his heart was breaking before his eyes.

"Don't...leave me..."

Wes took one of Blaine's hands in his and bent his head over that of his friends. When their foreheads were touching Wes realized that he was crying. Thick tears rolled down his cheeks and he hugged his friend.

"I'm not l-leaving you...ever." Wes pulled away and grabbed a small blanket, placing it over his friend. "Don't you _dare _leave me," he managed to spit out before letting out a soft sob, one that he hoped Blaine hadn't heard.

O.o.O

The obnoxious sound of beeping was the first thing that alerted Blaine to his surroundings, but it didn't make it any easier to comprehend. Last he remembered, he was sitting in the rehearsal room, piled up on soft pillows, throwing his phone at the wall...struggling to breathe...oh. _Oh._

Gentle pressure on his hand made him aware of someone else in the room. He turned his head, with minor difficulty, and saw Wes sitting in a chair next to his bed. A small smile played on his lips when he saw his friend.

"I thought you would never wake up."

"What...?" Blaine was officially to confused to think right now. Wes took pity on his useless state, however.

"You had a seizure in the rehearsal room. David and I made sure the EMT's took care of you the right way. Now you're here." He waved his free hand around the room and Blaine took a minute to survey his surroundings. He was in a double room, so that was a good sign. It meant he was good enough to have to put up with someone else.

"He's not tellin' it like it is. He actually gave you mouth-to-mouth." David strode up and took a seat on Blaine's other side. When he raised his thick eyebrows, David grinned. "That's right, Anderson, you touched lips with Wesley."

He couldn't quite figure out why it was so funny, but Blaine burst out laughing at this little detail. Perhaps it was the stress that he had been under for so long. Perhaps he just felt elated knowing that Wes still cared enough about him to do such a thing.

"Did you really?" Blaine asked with a smile. Wes grinned and shrugged his shoulders before his face became serious again.

"I'd do it again, if I had to. Blaine...I am so, _so _sorry, about-"

"Don't. You saved my life, I think that says more than words ever could." Wes permitted him a small smile before reaching on his nightstand and trusting an object into his hands. Blaine inspected the shiny new cellphone with a full keyboard before looking up at Wes, confused.

"Your dad bought it for you. He realized you were in need of a new one."

"Is he...?"

"He went out to call your mom, let her know how you're progressing. She'll probably be here any minute, actually. She left home about an hour ago."

Blaine lay back against his pillows; his head felt dizzy and confused. The last conversation with his dad had not been pleasant.

"Don't worry Blaine. He loves you." David squeezed his hand gently. Blaine smiled at his faithful friend before deciding that he hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep.

O.o.O

Blaine took his time walking to the Senior commons after classes had been let out. He had finally made up his mind. After much deliberation and a long conversation on the phone with Kurt, whom he had never actually talked to beyond email and texts, Blaine decided that telling his two loyal friends was the right thing to do. He was still worried that they wouldn't believe him, but that thought had dimmed quite a bit since they saw the state of him a mere two weeks ago, stuck up in the hospital for six days with no physical reason behind his condition.

_It's emotional, _he remembered overhearing the doctor tell his parents. _Whatever caused this is entirely emotional. He's going through something...huge. Just be there for him, on _his _side. _He looked at Senator Anderson for a few meaningful seconds, as if he knew how he had treated his son just that morning, before busying himself checking the plethora of tubes around Blaine's bed.

And now it was time to tell his two closest friends about the _emotional_ incident that led up to the death of the Blaine Anderson they had come to know. His heart was beating in his chest as he took a seat across from his friends. The common room was incredibly empty since most kids went home for Spring break right after classes let out, but luckily Wes and David stayed to keep an eye on him.

"Guys, we need to talk." Both boys sat quietly, knowing that Blaine was about to tell them what was getting to him this year.

"I...there's something I need to tell you. It's really hard for me to talk about. Nearly impossible, in fact." He shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

"You know you can tell us anything. We'll listen-"

"And we'll believe you." Wes nodded slightly, letting Blaine know that he knew this was why it took him so long to come clean. Blaine sighed deeply and tried to ignore everyone, even the random non-Dalton boy who had just entered the common room.

"Okay, here goes. When the new Dean came here, he asked me to come to his office. I thought something was wrong with my father, cuz, you know, they knew each other. But it wasn't. That was good. Yeah, very good. And so, yeah, nothing was wrong with my dad, and I asked him if there was anything I could help him with, but...oh jesus!"

Wes and David gave each other a weird look, equal looks that were asking the same question: _Why the hell is he laughing?_

Blaine couldn't help it. The irony seemed too funny right now, in a cruel kind of way. Yes, Blaine sure had _helped _him very much! Got just what he wanted, didn't he?

"Blaine, um. Hm. You okay?" David seemed at a loss for words, but he had to say something.

"Ha! No, I'm not fuckin okay. I can't do this. Guys, I'm sorry, I have to go." Blaine stood up and spun on his heel, trying to leave so fast that he collided with the non-Dalton kid.

"Oh, s-sorry." Blaine's head was spinning as the boy grabbed onto his side and steadied them before either of them fell over.

"It's no problem." When he smiled Blaine couldn't help but catch his breath. He had such a beautiful smile, and his voice was so gentle. It was like honey. So sweet. Blaine felt warmth through his body and took an involuntary step back. The boy looked down at the ground, a blush on his cheeks, and when he looked up again Blaine was frozen in place by his eyes.

They were like the ocean. Blue, green, gray...Blaine had the strangest feeling that this kid was very emotional, like those old Chinese myths that believed blue-eyed kids were too emotional. Only this kid had the entire ocean swimming in his soft eyes.

"Can we help you with anything?" Wes stood next to Blaine with his arms crossed over his chest. Blaine couldn't figure out why he was being so hostile to the kid. _Look at him! Am I the only one who really _sees _him? _But then he remembered that this was a private school, and this kid obviously didn't go here. And Wes was the monitor for the senior class._  
_

"Yes, actually. I was wondering if you know someone named Blaine Anderson?" His radiant smile distracted Blaine so much that he almost missed his own name. Almost.

"Um, that's me." The kid smiled and leaned forward without another word, pulling Blaine into a tight hug. Tight, but still so gentle. His petite body was pressed up against Blaine's so softly, but he was close enough to see that the kid was still taller than him. He pulled back much too soon for Blaine's taste, but much too late for Wes and David, who looked like they were going to smack him.

"Who the hell-" Wes tried to ask, but he cut him off, directing his next words at Blaine alone.

"Hi Blaine. I'm Kurt."

Blaine felt like his heart might stop again; not like the last time, were he was sinking, but like he was seeing life for the first time. Without thinking, Blaine leaped forward and threw his arms around his young, beautiful friend.

**Hm. This actually feels kinda short to me. Sorry about that! Oh, just you wait for the next chapter, I have some tricked up my sleeves, ladies and gents. Once again, I typed up my chapter playlist, so if you're interested there it is. Reviews are my motivation, so please keep them coming! Thank you so much for reading!**

**Chapter 3 Playlist:**  
Mad World- Gary Jules  
Leave out all the rest- Linkin Park  
A Brother's Lament- Let's Lumos!  
Everything You Want- Vertical Horizon  
I don't care- Three Days Grace  
Only Hope- Switchfoot


	4. Now and again we try

**So, this is the part where I apologize way too much for keeping you all waiting for SOOO long. I have a long list of completely valid excuses, but I won't recite them here, because I know that they'll still just sound like excuses. You actually owe this chapter to a previous reviewer, who asked me a few days ago to please update very soon. I thought that was very sweet, so I pushed myself to do it sooner than I planned. Hopefully the chapter won't suffer for that, but I have a feeling it won't.**

**Long author's note aside, I hope you enjoy this! Again, so sorry!**

"Kurt? Seriously?"

Blaine and Kurt had been sitting together on the couch for some time now, but Blaine still refused to believe that this boy, this _beautiful _boy, was the same one he had been talking to for a few months now. It's not that he didn't talk like the Kurt he had come to know; in the last five minutes Kurt had said seven big words that no one but himself seemed to understand, and he had to seriously dumb down the definition for them to wrap their heads around it.

Maybe it was the beauty. It was true, though, when Blaine talked to Kurt on the phone for the first, time that he assumed his long-distance friend must have something going for him in the category of looks, but he never expected to be presented with the most beautiful man he had ever layed eyes on. Excessively feminine, true, but still so beautiful.

But Blaine knew it wasn't any of these things. It was Kurt's timing. He should have known that Kurt had perfect timing when he sent Blaine an email just minutes before Blaine was going to give suicide a go, but this- this seemed too good to be true. Just when Blaine was going to back out of telling his friends the truth Kurt shows up and helps him get through it. Literally.

"So, he sort of...sat really close to me. And leaned in. And put his hand on my lap." Each word was harder to get out than the last, but Kurt kept squeezing his hand in reassurance whenever he stalled for too long. Occasionally, he would fill in a bit of the story as he knew it, and Blaine loved when he jumped in, but he did this rarely. He knew that only Blaine knew the whole truth, and even what he had told Kurt wasn't one-hundred percent of what really happened.

Wes was an interesting spectacle to be seen. As the recollection continued his face was turning this interesting not-quite-purple-but-closer-to-purple-than-any-other-color shade. At times Blaine would stop and ask if he was okay, but all he received was a sharp nod. This was one of those times. He leaned deeper into the couch and was prepared to stop all together when Kurt pressed his lips against his friend's ear.

"He's not mad at you. I'm pretty sure he wants to flog the Dean right now, though." And just like that, Blaine relaxed and continued.

"I pushed his hand away because, you know, that's just _awkward_. I mean, he's an authority figure, and I'm only seventeen! But apparently he wouldn't take no for an answer." His voice became soft and filled with pain.

Everyone knew that this was Blaine's halting point. He could recall every detail of how he was hurt, but they seemed like a distant nightmare. Saying them out loud brought them back to reality, made them hurt all over again.

"Blaine. What did he do to you?" Wes' jaw was clenched so hard you'd think someone sealed it with a vice. It was amazing he could even talk through that. Blaine shook his head; he couldn't continue. And for once, Kurt didn't squeeze his hand. He knew that Blaine wasn't ready to tell this part and he didn't want to make him feel like he had to now.

"Blaine, did he...did he...Touch. You?" Wes struggled to get the words out, and it made him realize how hard this must be for Blaine. _I swear to God, if that bastard hurt my best friend..._

The color had completely drained from Blaine's face, but he managed to nod. Wes startled him by calming down completely. At least, he appeared calm. His face had gone blank_. _Then, suddenly, he hurled himself off the couch and headed for the door.

"Wes, where are you _going_?" David couldn't see any other course of action at this moment besides comforting Blaine. Wes had other ideas.

"I'm gonna curb-stomp the motherfucker!" Wes spat the words out like they were poison. David was temporarily too shocked to do anything, because Wes never cursed. Ever.

"Stop him!" Blaine tried to get up and catch up to Wes but Kurt pushed him back down.

"I'll take care of him." After looking at Kurt's petite figure against Wes' short but muscular one, Blaine pleaded with his eyes for David to help him. Before David could jump up, however, Kurt had his arms wrapped around Wes'.

"I don't wanna hurt you, scrawny boy, so back off!" He sounded so angry, more angry than Blaine had ever heard him. Kurt rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on the other boy's arms. When Wes tried to shake him off, Kurt launched him into a wall and shoved his face against it to try to calm him down. Wes regretting the scrawny comment now that he was finding it impossible to break free.

"What do you think? You're going to go in there, guns blazing, take down the big bad wolf and finish the day off with a hot babe and a martini on the beach? It doesn't work that way, Bond!" Kurt practically shouted in Wes' ear. Blaine was surprised by how dangerous he sounded.

"I don't care, let me at him!" Wes tried to kick free but Kurt jammed his legs against the wall with his own. He leaned in and whispered into Wes' ear so that no one else could hear him.

"If you do this now, the only thing that will happen is that you will get expelled and probably go to Jail. You're eighteen, right? Yeah, jail. Nobody will know the truth, because Blaine isn't ready to come out with this. You'll look like the bad guy. You'll be gone, the Dean will look like a heroic victim, and Blaine will be alone. Do you really think that it's worth it?"

"but-I-he hurt my best friend, he put his hands on him-"

"You think it's not hard for me to stand here, so close to that man, and not cause him more pain than Hades himself would? The best thing we can do, for _Blaine_, is stay quiet. For now. We have to be smart about this." When Wes stopped struggling Kurt released him. Slowly he led Wes back to the couch because he looked shell-shocked and dizzy.

"How can we be _smart _about this?" David asked. "Isn't the smartest move to tell someone and get his ass fired and imprisoned?"

"I don't know, let's ask Blaine. Blaine, are you ready to tell a courtroom full of people exactly what he did to you?" All three of them turned to face their friend. Blaine frantically shook his head.

"Well then, that option is out." Kurt eyed the other two, as if daring them to disagree. They both looked down, wondering how this kid, this random kid, had come to know Blaine so well in such short time.

"What do you suggest?" David was surprised to see a maniacal smile form on the beautiful boy's face.

"I say we do this the proper way. The Facebook way."

O.o.O

"I'm sorry, but please explain to me how making a Facebook group about this guy will help us take him down?" Wes hated taking orders. He hated even more taking orders from strangers. Now, taking an order from a stranger who was almost two years younger than him was positively absurd.

"Not just any group, Wesley. _This _group." Kurt turned the screen so the others could see. The first thing Blaine saw was a picture of Dean Marshall, smiling like an ass with his hands clasped in front of him. Kurt had photo-shopped Blaine's father out of the picture so the slimy man was all alone. Next to the picture was the name of the group. Wes spat his coffee at the screen when he saw what Kurt had named it.

**The awkward moment when you realized this man was a Pedophile.**

"What? You've got to be kidding me!" David shouted right away.

"Yeah Kurt, you could get in so much trouble for that." Wes was in agreement with his loud friend. Blaine sat speechless, his jaw dropped and his coffee slipping through his fingers. When it fell through without his notice Kurt grabbed it with lightning speed and pushed it back into the older boy's hand.

"No, I won't. Do you know why? Because I don't go to Dalton."

"But they'll make you delete it." Blaine could see way too many holes in this plan, and hardly any point.

"Eventually, yes."

"Then what is the point of this?" Wes threw his hands up in the air. This was the last time he took orders from anybody. He didn't give a damn how old or young they were anymore.

Kurt huffed and plopped himself down on Blaine's bed. He pushed a stray hair from his face before explaining.

"Guys, in the time that it takes for this group to be reported we will have significant time to dredge up any dirt on this man. If this wasn't his first time, and I assume it wasn't, then we may get followers who know something about that. This gives us witnesses. It also gives him bad publicity. If this gets out to the School Board, the members will have to look into it. If it gets out to Parents, they will _demand _that he be investigated."

Wes was beginning to see the genius in this plan. "But what about them canceling the group? All that evidence will be gone."

"True. Which is why I'll check in at least twice a day and print the page each time, so that we always have up-to-date results."

"Kurt, I don't know about this..." Blaine began. He was still afraid of getting Kurt in trouble. Kurt grabbed his hand and squeezed gently.

"Guys, listen to me. Right now, that man has power. He has connections. He has faithful friends and loyal students and happy parents. The only way we can get people to see what he really is is by taking away said power. _This,_" he gestured to the laptop screen, "will give us power. Now, I need to know that you guys are behind me one-hundred percent. Are you with me?"

The boys looked at each other for a few seconds before David broke into an evil smile and shouted "hell yeah!" while jumping onto Kurt. Wes nodded with appreciation.

"Blaine? Are you in?" Kurt asked softly. Blaine smiled.

"You're one evil bastard, you know that?" Blaine said. Kurt took this as a yes and laughed.

"Alright then, let's ruin this man's life!" With that, he hit the submit button and created the group.

**So, do tell, what did you think? Hope it makes up for the long wait. Between you and I, I very rarely write serious stuff. This story has been a major first, and it felt nice to put some humor into it, to show different sides of the characters. Comments, ladies and gentlemen, comments make the world go 'round! As always, thanks so much for reading! Playlist below if you're interested in hearing my inspiration for this chapter (don't ask me why "Misery" was on constant repeat, I couldn't tell you XD ).**

**This chapter's Playlist:**

"Uprising"- Muse**  
**"Misery"- Maroon 5 (about 100x)**  
**"Becoming the Bull"- Atreyu  
"I will not bow"- Breaking Benjamin  
"Lyudi-Invalidy"- t.A.T.u.  
"White Eyes"- Gackt


	5. To just stay alive

**WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! This chapter is miserable. If you are in a bad mood or are feeling extra sensitive at the moment, please read this another time. You'll all hate me after this, anyways. It's a shame; I haven't posted in so long, and when I finally do it's completely messed up. The next chapter will be much better, I SWEAR ON MY LIFE!**

**Sorry in advance.  
**

"I still don't know about Kurt's plan." Wes grumbled from across the room. The Facebook group had been up for a few days now but Blaine didn't have the heart to look at it. He was both curious and afraid of what he might read. Luckily Kurt promised to take care of the whole thing. He told Blaine not to even think about it for now. He really was the strongest person Blaine had ever met.

"Relax, Wes. He knows what he's doing." David's legs lay gently across Blaine's lap and they were attempting to watch a funny movie together. They all knew it wasn't really working out, but that was the big pink elephant in the room at the moment. They all wanted to believe that they could get their minds off this situation for even five minutes, but it was impossible.

"I'm sorry guys, I have to go. Promised my dad I'd have dinner with him tonight." Blaine pushed David's legs off his lap and stood up, grabbing his coat on the way out.

"It's cool, dude. Drive safe!"

Sometimes Blaine wondered why he bothered rooming at Dalton. It wasn't as if he was required to live here. Everyone had a choice, and his home was only a thirty-minute drive from the school. Some teachers drove an hour and a half to get to school each morning. It would give him time to get to know his parents for the first time in his life, and get him away from-

"Hello Blaine."

Blaine felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up immediately. His blood was beating so fast it was as if it wanted to jump out of his skin and run for the hills. His mind was instantly calculating: what was the best, the fastest way to get out of here? But he knew there was no fast way out. He had to face it like a man.

"Hello, Dean Marshall. How are you today?" He said without turning to face the man. His forced politeness stung, tore scars open on his heart, but somehow managed to sound completely sincere. _Never underestimate the power of good acting._

"Not so good, actually." He sighed and took a step towards Blaine. Blaine could hear his breath getting louder. "Do you know why?"

Blaine shuddered, wanting so bad to run, but he forced himself to stay. "Why?"

"Because, I met the most amazing guy recently. But now he wants nothing to do with me." Blaine could now feel the man's breath on the back of his neck.

"That's unfortunate." His voice shook. He could run, but he wouldn't make it very far. That's what held him here.

"It does, doesn't it?" He placed his hands on Blaine's shoulders and tried to rub down his arms, but Blaine jumped away.

"Don't...Don't touch me." Blaine started to back off. Sure enough, there was that look. He knew he was dead.

O.o.O

Kurt promised Wes and David he would have a full report about the Facebook group tonight, so he made his way up the stairs and to the dorm area of the school. He took the stairs slowly, wanting to make sure that Blaine was gone before bringing the group up with the guys. He didn't want Blaine to be in more pain.

He fully expected to spend the night making plans of revenge on a vile, disgusting man. He did not, on the other hand, expect to see said man pushing a student up against a wall in the stairwell.

_And it was Blaine!_

Kurt charged up the stairs, making his presence known before flying at the man full on, his fist colliding with the man's face. One glance at Blaine told him that the Dean got nowhere, but that didn't stop Kurt from landing another solid punch to the man's jaw. He heard a sickening crack and small drops of blood splattered against the wall. Kurt turned and tried to pick Blaine up fast before the Dean could get up, but he was too slow.

"Kurt, watch out!"

Kurt felt a thud against the back of his head and he fell forward, hitting his forehead on the railing of the stairs. Black speckles swirled around his vision and he felt dizzy, but he had to get up. He had to help Blaine.

Before Kurt could stand back up the Dean landed a sharp kick into his ribcage.

"NOOO!"

Blaine must have heard the crack, as well. Kurt cried out in pain and choked on his own spit. He wiped his mouth off, only to see blood on the back of his hand. His blood. His mind was too far gone to hear the sounds of Blaine struggling with the Dean. Kurt did the only thing he knew he could do in that moment. He speed-dialed Wes and whispered the words 'stairwell' into the phone before he felt another kick, this time right in the jaw.

O.o.O

"Kurt? Kurt, are you awake? Doc, he isn't waking!" Kurt knew that voice. He used to have dreams about that voice constantly, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, holding his hand and telling him that he didn't care what the rest of the world said. And then everything changed. Kurt smiled, because he remembered exactly who this man was.

"Finn?"

"Oh my god, he's awake! Burt, Mom, he's awake!"

"Oh, thank God! Did he say anything?"

"Did he tell you who did this to him?"

"Who was the other boy?"

"Is it true the doctor had to insert a mental plate in the back of his head?"

"Grilled cheesus, is he a cyborg now?"

"What? No Finn, he's still human."

"Oh thank God! I don't think I could live with a cyborg, you never know what they'll do."

Out of all the jumbled up sentences flying through the air, Kurt only heard one.

"Blaine? Where's Blaine?"Kurt tried to sit up but what felt like at least thirty pairs of hands held him down.

"Stay still, you're injuries are severe. Try not to strain yourself."

"What happened to Blaine?"

"Really Kurt, you need to calm down. They'll sedate you if you don't. I don't really think you want to go back under."

"Did Karofsky do this?" Puck's voice boomed over everyone else's, followed by a chorus of men making death threats.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS BLAINE!"

The room got quiet instantly. Nobody said anything and Kurt took it to mean the worst. Without being able to stop himself, he started sobbing. It hurt to cry; every gut-wrenching sob pushed his broken ribs together and the pain shot through his nerves instantly. Carole held his hand and kissed the top of his head, whispering that it would be okay. But how? How could it possibly be okay when Blaine was...

"I'm right here, dummy."

Kurt's head whipped around to the bed next to him. Blaine had his head turned slightly toward him and a small smile on his bruised lips. Besides looking incredibly drunk, he didn't look as bad as Kurt. His hand was wrapped up, with a few spots of blood peaking through, and Kurt was sure that his stomach must have been littered with bruises, but he was able to maneuver much better than Kurt could.

Kurt let out a sigh of relief and wiped the tears away from his eyes.

"I-I thought I lost you."

"Never." Blaine was having a hard time keeping his eyes open; whatever they put his on, they made sure that it was strong. He also had a hard time remembering what happened.

"Do you remember what happened, Blaine?"

"Actually, I was just going to ask you the same question." Blaine didn't care that Kurt's whole family and all his friends were there. He stretched his hand out toward the other boy. Their beds where close enough that Kurt could easily reach out and grasp hands with his friend.

"Can someone please tell me what happened here?" Burt was furious that he still didn't have a name and address of who did this to his son.

"I can."

Wes was leaning against the door frame, staring sadly at his two friends as they held hands, each with silent tears sliding down their cheeks.

"And who might you be?"

"Wesley, Sir. Kurt called me while it was happening. My friend and I got there in time to make sure nothing worse happened." His voice quivered as he talked, remembering the state that he and David had found them in. Kurt had fully blacked out and his face and head was covered in blood. Blaine was still fighting, but each punch to the gut rendered him weaker and weaker.

"Oh, you mean weaker than they already are?" Burt exploded.

"Dad, don't-"

"Now wait just a minute, Kurt! You haven't seen yourself! You don't know how bad this...How could it have been any worse?"

"They could have been raped. Or killed. Or both."

Every stared at David in disbelief. Kurt felt Blaine's hand twitch and knew that he was cringing just from hearing the word being said out loud.

"Blaine," Wes started, "This can't stay a secret any longer. Kurt got us the evidence we need from the Facebook group. Now we can move forward. We _have _to move forward. Are you ready?"

Almost everybody in the room was looking from David to Wes to Kurt, their eyes finally resting on Blaine in confusion. Blaine looked up and down Kurt's body. Blaine had been lucky. He wasn't broken. Kurt was. He had broken four ribs and had his head cracked open so bad that they stuck a metal plate in his head. His beautiful face was contorted with bruises and pain, his lean arms looked completely drained of color. All because he had tried to help Blaine.

Slowly Blaine managed to nod his head at Wes. "I'm ready. Let's tell the world. Starting with my father."

**Now, feel free to send me hate reviews. I know it's awful, but situations like this in real like are not all rainbows and gumdrop smiles. I promise the next chapter will be uplifting. **

**SPOILER: Blaine tells his father EVERYTHING, and the trial begins. And it turns out Kurt's Facebook group was a massive success. Wait til you see the evidence he's cooked up.  
**

**Playlist:**

**"If I Die Young" the Band Perry**  
**"On a Rainy Monday" Shiny Toy Guns**  
**"Here Me Now" Hollywood Undead**  
**"Wretches and Kings" Linkin Park**


	6. Maybe we'll turn it all around

**Sorry this took a while, but it seems that they're all taking a while. Guess I just have to hope that the chapters are good enough for my amazing readers to keep coming back. Thanks so much for your support through this story; as a general rule, I can't write chapter fics, but you've all kept me inspired and motivated to finish this, and I will. **

**Now, It will be longer than I originally planned. I hope that's okay with everyone. Originally, it was only supposed to be six chapters, but clearly that won't work. I expect maybe three or four more. How do you all feel about that?**

**On a side note, I've written a lot of other Glee fics and would really appreciate some reviews on those, because most of them are lacking. I would love it if you guys could maybe read some of them, but please don't feel obligated!**

**Again, thanks for all your help, and here's the next chapter! I know I promised the trial, but that will start in the next chapter. Enjoy and review!  
**

Angry squeaks sounded on the shiny floor, causing random students to spin around in shock. He ignored them all, grinding his feet into the floor harder. Large yellow gashes were forming in the wood, but he didn't care. He paced by the Warbler's Rehearsal room but barely noticed that all the students had come out to watch him walk by. To him, everything was going in slow motion. He couldn't move fast enough. To them, he was moving at the speed of light. No normal man could walk that fast- he seemed determined not to stop.

"Anderson, what-" a teacher standing in a classroom door tried to stop him but he pushed by the tall man and kept moving. Students were muttering and teachers were looking worried, wondering why this man wouldn't stop for anyone.

He pushed his way into the Dean's office. A middle-aged woman smiled pleasantly up at him, but her smile abruptly changed to shock as she registered the look on his stone face.

"Excuse me sir, can I help you?" He kept moving to the back where an arrow pointed to the Dean's private office.

"Sir, I can't allow you to go in there-" But his legs carried him forward. He didn't need anyone's permission to do what he came here to do. He pushed the door open and crossed the room. Dean Marshall looked up in surprise, then smiled when he recognized the face.

"Ah, hello old friend! What can I do for y-"

The man's fist came down on his jaw hard. The Dean still had a slight bruise on his face from when that unknown kid had hit him, and he clutched at his jaw in agony as it practically screamed out in pain. Shocked, he looked up- only to find another fist aimed at his face. Everything was a blur; nothing was moving in slow motion anymore. He felt a crack in his nose and screamed in pain.

"Sheryl!" He yelled for his assistant. She came running through the door, followed quickly by three male teachers. They wrapped their hands around the man and pulled him back, one of them trying to pin him down. But he refused to give up without a fight. That's what he came here for, after all. He lunged forward and struck the man in the neck, effectively cutting off his breathing for a few seconds. Marshall stumbled forward and fell flat on his stomach.

"Get him o-out of here!" he commanded Sheryl. They started to pull the man out of the room, but he didn't want it to end like that.

"THAT BASTARD, I'M GONNA KILL HIM! TOUCH MY SON, HUH? I SWEAR TO GOD I'M GOING TO KILL YOU ONE DAY, I'M GONNA KILL YOU, YOU FUCKING PEDOPHILE!"

His screams were heard by the entire school. Kids stood out in the hallways as the teachers tried to remove him from the school. Wes and David were leaning against the door to their rehearsal room, their eyes dark and murderous. They wanted to be right by his side, causing the Dean just as much pain, maybe even more, than he had caused their friend.

"Keep that bastard away from the kids! Sick fucking man, sick sick man! I swear to god, I'll destroy him, I'll ruin his life in a matter of seconds! He'll never run from this..." And it continued, until the cops came and tried to arrest him. They dropped the handcuffs when he told them why he did it. The students watched in shock as they dragged the Dean out of his office, blood-covered and swearing.

"Tell them I didn't do anything!" Marshall pleaded when he saw Wes and David standing by the door. David turned away from him completely, but Wes looked him dead in the eyes.

"Go to hell," he muttered, then watched as they dragged the man away.

O.o.O

"You okay, kid?" Burt asked. Blaine shifted in his bed, trying to get his shirt on over his cast. It kept getting caught, and his dapper patience was quickly flying out the window. He grunted and tried to pull it through again, but it just snagged on a different part of the cast. Hmm, maybe _it_ was okay with Blaine wandering around shirtless all day, but _he _wasn't!

"Lemme help." Burt held the sleeve open as Blaine slipped his arm in and pulled the shirt over his head all the way. He smiled; it felt nice to have a real shirt on for a change.

"Thanks," he said softly. Burt gave him a weak smile before he sat back down. Surprisingly, things weren't awkward between them. Blaine thought for sure that Burt would hate him when he knew that Kurt got hurt in the process of helping him, but he wasn't at all. He was proud of his son. He wanted to kill the Dean, though. Kurt had to make him promise that he wouldn't bust in there and raise hell.

They sat in silence, watching the bathroom door. Light glowed from under it and Blaine heard the water running. No doubt, Kurt was trying to fix his messy hair.

"You love him?" Burt's question took Blaine by surprise. Until a few days ago, he hadn't thought about Kurt in that way. Okay, lies. He totally had. He just refused to admit to himself, and anyone else for that matter, that he had. Now he accepted his feelings. But what do you say when your crush's father askes you if you're in love with his son?

"Uhh..." At that moment the bathroom door opened and Kurt stepped out into the small room. Blaine wanted to smile at him, but it was hard. He had done what he could to cover up the bruises with make up, but purple bruises still peeked through on his cheeks and jawbone. He walked forward slowly, trying not to put too much strain on his ribs.

Blaine couldn't help but admire the softness of his billowy hair as he sat next to him on the bed. His hair was puffier in the back and just managed to cover up the almost-bald part of his head where the doctors had to shave to perform his surgery. Even all banged up, he looked like an angel. He smiled, but he looked incredibly self-conscious.

"Tell me I look beautiful?" His request came out sounding like a question since he barely believed it himself. Blaine smiled and grabbed a hold of his hand. He squeezed slightly.

"You look beautiful," he spoke from his heart.

"Okay boys, let's, ahh, let's get goin' now." Burt shuffled on his feet, sounding uncomfortable. Blaine pulled Kurt off the bed and headed for the door, walking out first. Burt was the last out, and as Kurt walked passed him he gave his son a soft smile, nodding toward Blaine. Kurt shrugged but smiled back.

Blaine was surprised to find Wes and David waiting for them outside. They moved toward him and wrapped their arms around their beloved friend. Blaine smiled when he realized that this was the first time in months that he didn't shudder when they touched him. As Kurt came to stand next to them, Wes and David wrapped him in a hug, as well. As they pulled away, the floor boys plus Burt stood looking at each other.

"So, what's our game plan?" Blaine asked. David cast a knowing look toward his best friend, earning a grimace in return.

"You...might want to know...that your father is in police custody." Wes unwillingly told Blaine.

"WHAT? Why?"

"Because," David cut in, "He attacked Marshall. Messed him up real good. Something about a broken nose, constructed airway if I heard correctly. Did it during school, too. The teachers freaked out."

"They freaked out even more when they saw their Dean being dragged away in handcuffs, though." Wes couldn't help but smile for a second at the image, but then he stopped; now was a bit too early for that.

Blaine looked awe-struck. He was definitely worried about his father, there was no doubt about that. Though he knew that he would be released no problem, it still wasn't a good thing to be there in the first case. And he felt a bit guilty, too, because he was there because he stood up for Blaine. That seemed to be happening a lot lately.

But mostly, he just felt intense joy. Because, after 17 years, his father had finally stood up for him. And he needed it now more than ever.

O.o.O

"I told you, I didn't do anything!"

"Really? I called the hospital; two boys were admitted last week, at the same time, and one of them was Blaine Anderson. And the wounds were extensive. You mean to tell me that you, who has random bruises all over your body, had nothing to do with that?"

"He made them!" Marshall pointed an accusing finger at Mr. Anderson, who had been sitting quietly in a corner for the entire conversation. He was instructed not to do anything that would make the suspect unwilling to answer their questions, but he couldn't help the growl that escaped from his lips. Oh, he had done a number to the vile man. If he had his way, he would have killed him.

"Mr. Marshall, a lot of the bruises on your body are about a week old. Mr. Anderson couldn't possibly have done them. And we have two witnesses who say they pulled you off the boys in the stairwell. Now, that stairwell has blood on the walls, and we're going to test it anyways, so we'll find out the truth. Want to come clean before you get caught in more lies?" The officer leaned forward dramatically, a hard look in his eyes. He had dealt with men like this before and he wasn't going to go easy on him.

Marshall leaned away from him and stood up abruptly.

"I demand to speak to my lawyer," he said. The officer nodded, told him to sit back down, and went to leave the room for a minute. Thinking better of it, he brought Mr. Anderson with him. No need for this to turn into a murder trial as well.

**So what'd you guys think? Next chapter will start (possibly finish) the trial. Sorry this took so long! Believe it or not, the lack of new Glee episodes is making me want to post more fanfiction to keep myself busy, so the next chapter shouldn't take as long as this one. Thanks so much for reading!**

**Playlist:**

"Monster" Skillet  
"Break" Three Days Grace  
"I Will Not Bow" Breaking Benjamin  
"End of all Hope" Nightwish  
"Tears Don't Fall" Bullet For My Valentine  
"Ready Set Go" Tokio Hotel  
"Hold The Door" Armor for Sleep  
"Williamsburg" Armor the Sleep


	7. Cuz it's not too late

**Here it is. This chapter was abut half finished a week of so, and then I accidentally deleted it. I know, I suck. Anyway, I had to start from scratch, and this time it came out much better. But court scene's are hard to write. Anyway, hope you like this chapter!**_** P.S. Since this chapter took the longest, it's also the longest I've written for this fic: Almost 3,000 words :)**  
_

_Breathe. Remember, you aren't alone. You're hear now, with people who support you, and you'll get. through. this...somehow._

Blaine was beginning to hyperventilate, and Kurt could tell. The younger boy grabbed his hand and squeezed gently as they made their way into the crowded courtroom. Blaine took a deep breath and pushed himself closer to Kurt, needing his strength today more than anything.

Kurt had hoped that not too many people would show up. After all, this wasn't some little misdemeanor trial. This was a minor being forced to remember the single most awful moments of his life, and having to explain those moments to a group of people who may or may not believe him. It was hard enough with just the mandatory members. But all this?

Kurt cringed when he saw Marshall's side completely full. People stared at them as they walked up to the other table, curious glances becoming dark glares.

_They hate me_, Blaine thought. He saw a woman sitting right behind the table, two small children in her lap, who was giving him the meanest look of anyone in the courtroom. And not just mean. It was the kind of look that said "you're ruining my family."

"Blaine, keep it together." Kurt grabbed Blaine around the shoulders and steered him to his seat, fully aware of the dangerous shaking in his friend's legs. He was about to collapse.

"I can't do this, Kurt." Blaine stared up at Kurt with a look of terror painted in his dark eyes.

"Yes, you can. You can, you will, and after today you _never _have to look back on this day again. You can leave it all in the past." Blaine's eyes glazed over with tears and Kurt pulled him against his chest, stroking his loose curls.

"It'll all be over soon, I promise." He squeezed Blaine gently and pulled away as Blaine's lawyer set his briefcase down and cleared his throat. Kurt looked into Blaine's eyes once more, trying to give him all the love and encouragement that he could, and went to sit not too far back from the table.

_It won't be that bad_, Blaine thought. _They'll know that he's guilty. They'll see right through him._

Blaine heard the sound of a seat next to him being pulled out and he dared to look over. Immediately, he wished he hadn't. He saw Marshall dressed to impress, looking as if was just another uneventful day, looking smug like he thought he'd get off. That wasn't what made Blaine wrap his arms around his stomach and put his head on the table, however. It was the looks he was receiving from Marshall's family.

He hadn't _done _anything, so why did he feel bad? He had no reason to feel like a home-wrecker. He had no reason to feel remorse. Especially when Marshall felt _none_.

_It'll all be over soon, all over soon. Nothing to worry about._

The judge wasted no time getting things started, calling Blaine up immediately. He wasn't surprised by the onslaught of protests, the hollers of rage and hatred lashing out at him. He expected it, even. That didn't make things any easier.

Blaine sat plastered to his seat, unwilling to stand and face the people who would rather see him dead than watch him stand.

"Blaine, I'm questioning you first," his lawyer, Mr. Bentley whispered in his ear. "Come on, you can do this. I'll ease you into it." He grabbed Blaine by the arm but didn't pull. He was giving Blaine a chance to pass, to let the whole trial slip by without him. Which would have been bad.

_"You _have _to testify, Blaine. If you don't, he can plead guilty. If he pleads guilty he doesn't go to jail. He gets a slap on the wrist and walks away. This is up to _you_."_

There was still time for Blaine to throw in the towel, to chicken out and let the monster get away with ten times less than what he deserved. Mr. Bentley was giving him that chance, giving him the opportunity to take the easy way out.

But the easy way wasn't always the best way, or the right way. Blaine knew that, so, reluctantly, he stood up.

* * *

Blaine fell into his seat, feeling shell-shocked. He had done it. He had gotten up in front of over one-hundred people and related every single detail of his abuse to them.

"Are you okay?" Mr. Bentley was staring at him with obvious concern, looking as if he thought Blaine was going to break down at any second. And with good reason. Several times during his long confession he had gotten choked up, stumbled over words, closed his eyes and pretended like he was talking to a wall rather than a hostile room of people. He had shivered, cringed, bit his lip and balled his fists so tight that his knuckles ached. Finally, he had walked away slowly, legs shaking and sucking in air like he couldn't get enough.

"I-I'm fine." Blaine tried to smile but his lips contorted in pain as Marshall took the stand, ready to throw everything out there to save himself. His lawyer placed a hand on his for a second in reassurance before pulling it away, and Blaine looked behind him.

His mother and father were sitting together holding each other, his father looking murderous while his mother clutched a tissue to her face, which was buried in his dad's shoulder. His father nodded and tried to smile, and Blaine guessed that they were having the same trouble with smiling at the moment.

Wes and David were sitting a few seats further down, and both gave him an encouraging smile, though Blaine could see David's arm pressed against Wes' chest in a way that made it look like he was holding Wes down. Kurt was on the other side of Wes, and he had tears streaked down his usually pale cheeks, now bright red. He didn't smile at Blaine, which, strangely, didn't make Blaine feel odd. He was getting used to the idea that he and Kurt were starting to understand eachother's emotions without ever talking about them. He knew how Blaine felt, and he was feeling it, too. Blaine didn't want Kurt to hurt the way he did, but he liked having someone who knew him so well.

Blaine faced forward again to witness what would be a futile attempt for Marshall to save himself. It wouldn't work. At all.

Something caught Blaine's eye, and he peeked over at the Jury to see a man nodding quickly at Marshall. It was just a small jerk of the head, barely noticeable, but it told Blaine all he needed to know.

Marshall had friends on the Jury.

_So much for their _wonderful _method of removing all bias, _Blaine thought bitterly. He tried not to let it get to him, though. It was just one man. Until he saw said man smile at a woman behind him, the same woman who looked at Blaine the entire time he was confessing like she didn't believe him, and realization dawned on him.

He had more than just one friend on the Jury.

"What the hell is going on?" Mr. Bentley muttered. Blaine looked over at him to see him glaring at the Jury. So he had seen it, too. "Unfair bias. This isn't right, dammit!"

"It's okay, it's only two people," Blaine whispered, but he wasn't as confident as he sounded. These _two people _were the oldest members on the Jury, and everyone seemed to gravitate toward them like they had _all _the answers. Kurt's words came back to his mind: _after today you never have to look back on this day again_. He believed it at the time, but he wasn't so confident now.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of Marshall's lawyer rattling off facts.

"If Mr. Anderson was indeed _raped_, as he claimed to be, he would not have waited so long to come forth about it. He would have gone to a doctor or told a friend or _something_, but he did _nothing_. It seems clear that we have _no evidence_ and _no case_."

_No case! What about the thousands of details, the bruises, the blood on Marshall's shirt that they analyzed? Would they really disregard all of that!_

Yes, they really would. Blaine was beginning to discover that the justice system was just like politics. They pointed fingers at the wrong people with bullshit evidence to draw attention away from the real problems, and in the end it was the innocent who were punished and the evil who were allowed to walk the streets, to prey on others. What was justice, anyway?

Blaine shook his head and closed his eyes. He knew _exactly _how the day would end.

"So, if there's no further "evidence" I think we can put an end to this pointless trial-"

"I'm sorry, but _I _have some evidence." Blaine whipped his head around to see Kurt standing up, hands on hips, an angry twist to his delicate mouth.

"Your name?" The Judge asked.

"Kurt Hummel, your honor. I have evidence I'd like to share with the Jury." When he said 'jury' his eyes tightened, and Blaine could tell that many more people had seen Marshall's friends in there than he originally thought.

"Step forward, please." Kurt walked into the witness stand, casting a confident nod Blaine's way. "Tell us how you know the victim."

"I met Blaine online, on a website for abused teens. He signed up one night, put up a message, and he sounded close to suicide. It scared me. So I talked to him. I have all our messages on my phone right now, if you'd like to see them." The room was filled with silence. "I also have a few more people who'd like to have a say in this trial." Kurt nodded toward the back and a guard opened the back doors. Three boys, approximately Blaine's age, walked into the courtroom. Blaine had never seen any of them before.

"That's Kevin Johnson, Mark Smith and Terri Ronninberg. I found them on facebook. I believe they'd like to tell _their _stories, as well."

Everyone's facial expression said something different, but Blaine only had time for one expression: Marshall's. An expression that could only say one thing: _I'm so screwed._

* * *

"Has the Jury come to a conclusion?" The room was too tense. It felt like Blaine was being suffocated. Blaine looked over at the table across from him and, for the first time that night, wasn't scared to look at Marshall. How could he be scared to look at a man who looked like he was about to pull out his own hair?

His wife was an interesting sight, as well. She went from glaring at Blaine to glaring at her husband to looking at her husband like she had witnessed him murdering children or something.

The confessions of the three boys had shut the room up, confused lots of people and, from the looks of it, disgusted the Judge. She looked like she wanted to strangle Marshall herself, but she held it together. She was trained well.

Blaine was still in shock. He remembered the day Kurt suggested doing the facebook group, remembered his own skepticism as well as Wes and David's. But Kurt was right.

"Yes we have, your honor."

The air was only getting thicker, and Blaine felt like he was drowning. He had no idea how this was going to play out. The evidence pointed to one decision, but guilty people had been set free many times. It could easily happen.

"In the charge of four counts of rape of persons under the age of 18, we the Jury do find the defendant...not guilty."

The room burst with angry noise and Blaine could just barely hear his father's enraged screams over the crowd. His head swam as he looked at the Jury in disbelief. The woman who gave the verdict looked surprised by their anger. Then a man tapped her on the shoulder, whispered in her ear, and she bolted up again, face burning red.

"I-I'm sorry, I misspoke! Guilty, I meant guilty! I'm so sorry!" She covered her face and say down again, looking completely embarrassed. The man and woman who were with Marshall looked angry, and the entire room went from near death threats to cheers.

Blaine felt a strong pair of hands pull him up and wrap him in a tight hug.

"You did it, Blaine! You did it!" Kurt's voice was too high-pitched and tight, but to Blaine it was the most beautiful music he had ever heard. Blaine laughed unashamed.

"_You _did it, you crazy boy!" Blaine held on tight, unwilling to pull away. He wasn't happy, exactly. He still had his memories of the last few months to sort through, to accept and move on from. And it would take time. But he could do it in peace now. He didn't have to look over his shoulder in fear every day.

After all, twenty-five to life was a very long sentence. No bail. No parole.

"Blaine!" The boy pulled away from Kurt at the sound of an unfamiliar woman's voice. Everyone who had come to hug him became very stiff. Blaine looked over Kurt's shoulder and saw Marshall's wife standing a few feet away from him.

"Yes?" He still felt bad, as if he really _was _ruining her family.

"I...I'm sorry." She said through a tight throat, and left just as quickly as she came. Blaine felt light-headed and leaned on Kurt for support as everyone around him stayed quiet.

"Well, that was awkward." David's random comment made Blaine and his friends laugh, and he was soon wrapped into a tight embrace by his father, who was, to his utter shock, crying.

**Well, there you have it! It's all done!...NOT! Just one more chapter to go, and since it's a very lighthearted chapter, it shouldn't take me long. As a matter-of-fact, I'll start it right now! Maybe I can finish it tonight! I'm so SO sorry for the long wait, guys! Your comments kept me going, and it means the world to me that so many of you reviewed and told me your thoughts on the matter. Thank you SOOOO much! One chapter left, R&R please!**

**Playlist:**

Hands Held High - Linkin Park  
Pain - Three Days Grace  
In Joy and Sorrow - HIM  
Gone with the Sin - HIM  
Right Here in My Arms- HIM (it's a HIM day, I think)  
Momentum - The Hush Sound  
That's What You Get - Paramore  
Check marks - The Academy Is...  
Piece of Me - Britney Spears  
Wine Red - The Hush Sound


	8. it's never too late

***Sigh* This is officially the end. It's been great having you all here. _Really_. And I'll miss the amazing inspiration I get from all of you. Really, I will. This has been the best story I've ever written, and it's all thanks to YOU. So thank you for reading, thank you more for reviewing, and thank you the most for being patient with me in my long gaps between updating. This chapter is for you guys.**

"Blaine!"

Blaine spun around upon hearing his name to see a man in his early thirties running toward him. His blond hair bounced over his eyes and made Blaine want to laugh.

"Mr. Duvall? What are you doing here?" The man came to a halt in front of Blaine and leaned over, trying to catch his breath.

"I'm...the new...Dean...outta shape...need to stop...eating candy bars."

"You're the new Dean!"

"Hey, why so surprised?" He puffed out his chest, stood as tall as he could, and put his "serious face" on. And he was still scrawny, still an inch shorter than Blaine, and still looked like a dork. Blaine laughed with the man as they walked down the halls of Dalton together.

He never thought he'd be in his new school with his old Assistant Principle.

"They said I was, you know, fresh. Different from all the other Deans here at Dalton. I was on my way up anyway, and they needed someone to fill the position. I'm probably not all that _qualified_, but I'll catch on."

"No, no, you'll do just fine." Blaine smiled at Mr. Duvall as he waved and ran down the other hallway, shouted a "howdy there!" at any students he saw. Blaine shook his head with admiration.

The guy was a total goof, but he knew what he was doing. He was the only authority figure at his old school that actually listened to Blaine and tried to help him. The Principle was useless, but _he _was the only reason Blaine hadn't transferred sooner. He genuinely cared about his students.

"Hey Blaine, come join the study group!" Jeff was on his feet in a flash and Blaine ducked as a book came sailing at him. He picked it up and read the cover.

"_Advanced Calculus_? Aw, come _on_! Why now?"

"Because," Jeff said, throwing himself onto a couch. "I was absent from school for two months with mono, and I'm failing this class now. I needs me some help from the most smartest Warbler ever!" He gave Blaine his puppy eyes and the boy sighed but took a seat next to the blond. He had missed Jeff the past two months, but he was glad that Jeff had missed all the drama. He didn't want his little ball of happiness to be sad. He opened the textbook, about to start in on chapter thirteen, when something came to mind.

"Wait, you've been out for two months with _mono_?" Blaine asked, incredulously. Jeff smiled and started chewing on his pencil.

"Why dost thou asketh?"

"Um...Didn't _Nick_ have mono, too?" Blaine started cracking up as Jeff's cheeks went from creamy pale to bright red. He got up, threw the textbook at Blaine again, and announced that he needed "sustenance" before leaving the room.

"Nice one," Wes took Jeff's abandoned seat. "You get to see him for the first time in two months, and you embarrass him."

"What are friends for? Wonder how much longer Nick will be gone..."

"_At least_ another month. His immune system is tosh."

"Hello, dear friends o' mine!" David took a seat on Blaine's other side. They muttered their hellos and went silent. Blaine suspected they had something to say to him, but he let them take their time.

"So...How are you feeling?" Blaine rolled his eyes. Of _course _that's what they've been wondering. Since coming back to school, Blaine kept to himself a lot. Most people didn't know about what happened, besides a few of his teachers, and Blaine was still sorting things out in his mind.

"I'm okay. Miss the days when I could actually get sleep, but I'm...I'm healing." His friends smiled at him as his eyes focused on a far wall, his thoughts carrying him elsewhere.

"And how is Kurt?"

"Someone say my name?"

Blaine tore his eyes away from the spot on the wall and toward the door. Jeff had come back, and he was standing next to Kurt. Who was wearing a Dalton uniform.

"This 'ere lad says he be wishin' to speak to the cap'in. Yar be lucky t'get ahold o' this one, ya be." Kurt looked highly amused by the rattle of non-sense coming out of Jeff's mouth. Blaine stood up and wondered over to the pair. He stared at Jeff for a second before looking away.

"You know, I _really _wish you hadn't giving Nick mono. You were so much more calm with him around."

"Oh my god, shut up!" Jeff hit Blaine with his back pack (what he had re-named his "purse") and went to go talk to David about Pokemon.

"Hey there, stranger," Kurt said. He sounded out of breath, though it was clear that he hadn't been running.

"What are you doing here?" Blaine watched with fascination as Kurt tilted his head to the side, making him look even more adorable than ever.

"I wanted to...to be with you."

"You transferred for _me_? Why would you do that?" He was stunned, but something deeper inside him stirred. He tried to beat it down, but the look in Kurt's eyes only fed the hope in his heart.

"Because...Because I love you."

_Oh. My. God._

Upon noticing the blank expression on Blaine's face, Kurt started talking a mile a minute. And Blaine let him, because it was cute to hear him sound so unsure and embarrassed for a change.

"I would totally understand if you didn't want to, you know, _be _with me, or if you just don't feel that way I'm fine with that, I just wanted to tell you and...and just yeah, don't worry about-"

Blaine ended Kurt's adorable rambling by pressing his lips gently against his. He could smell Kurt's beautiful scent, taste what was uniquely him, and most importantly, he felt the love that only Kurt felt for him pouring into his soul. He felt lighter than air, lighter than he had felt in his entire life.

When he pulled away, Kurt had a soft smile on his pink, swollen lips. He leaned down a little and pressed his forehead to Blaine's. Blaine reached up and cupped Kurt's cheek in his hand, stroking softly.

"Welcome to Dalton," he whispered, before dragging him in for another passionate kiss.

**THE END.**

**_To anyone who would be interested in reading more of my longer stories, I have one story called "I'm Not Ashamed" which I proudly am pretty good about updating. It's on chapter 5 now, but it's a quick read. I need some more reviews on it (because reviews allow an author to see things about a story that they would have never seen themselves) so, if you're interested, please read it! It's not a very common pairing, but most people seem to have been converted ;) Again, thank you everyone for your support!_**

**_~Alex  
_**


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